Crossing Lines
by Cai.La.washere
Summary: What would happen if someone fell in love with a ghost? Would it work, would it bring pain? How dangerous, messing around with two different worlds. Maybe she'll ease his pain, maybe she'll bring him more. R&R [Orignal story, sorry no Xover]
1. The Beginning has an End

What's in my Closet?

The Beginning has an End

Chapter One

It didn't make sense, I didn't have clue, on my rooftop I stood with my arms raised above my head. The wind was grabbing my hair and snapping it back and forth chilling my neck, unaware of anything.

"Get that child off the roof!" a man from below shouted. There were sirens and fire trucks, Jaws of life, the whole works had shown up for something that was out of their control. This was the beginning, the start, and it wasn't my fault.

"Alice! Alice!!" my mother called in panic from her apartment window, her eyes wide with confusion and worry. I only heard the echo of silence ringing throughout my head, the state of sleep I was in gave me no clues to what was happening.

Then, something cool at my feet reached my senses. Water, the eavesdrops, I was awake, and also looking down. "What–..." "Stay were you are!" I had heard an authorized sounding voice call to me. A wave of fear ran over me, finally realizing I was on the edge of a roof, my bedroom window a floor below her. I screamed backing up a few steps, sitting myself down sprawling out on the damp shingles.

The fireman had already entered the building, quickly making themselves up to the top floor. My mom was constantly screaming out to me, desperately wanting a response, I was too panicked even to make eye contact.

I didn't notice the fireman that had grabbed me and hauled me into a window. All I remembered was my mother latched onto me with a death grip of hers, scolding me of all things, never to do anything like that again. "You hear me young lady?! Never again do something so reckless!" she hugged me and it seemed like hours before she had let go.

Losing half a night's sleep, I was immediately signed up for therapy that morning.. "Sleepwalking can be triggered by many events, we are going to process your brain to find out what you were doing the day, week, or month before." The therapist intelligently told my mother. At that point, a lot can run through a seven-year's brain wondering if your going to be hypnotised.

They were stumped, I was a normal little girl, with friends at school, a happy household and family living down the street. No traumatic experiences, no heart loss, no upsetting deaths. It was a fluke. Not even the fact of me not having a father effected me. I wish maybe I was disturbed, because it was something worse.

Maybe a month later, strange things were happening...

Looking in my closet door, I calmly layed in my bed eyeing the glow- in- the- dark stick on stars and moons. My room was covered in stuffed animals, children's story books and the walls were painted a light pink color. Clothes were randomly scattered on the floor, and dolls had spots on my dresser. Just the way I liked my room.

I sighed thinking about grade five the next day, how jealous I was of that girl with the pink flowy skirt I wanted so bad. How the boy with the missing tooth that sat next to me was always poking at my shoulder. My mind was wandering, slowly falling asleep unable to keep my eyes open.

I should have fallen asleep, it shouldn't have happened, the frightening scene that took place in my innocent room that night. The thing I happened to forget all those years. One of those things that are never gone, but in the end they always come back scraping the inside of your skull, calling to you, "Psst! I'm here you know! You forgot about me but I'm still here!"

That tapping noise, it was so quiet, but it bugged me, I was the kind of kid that if there was a faucet dripping downstairs, I would take the effort to limp down the stairs and tighten the tap. Or if there was a light on in the basement, I would think about it to the point where it drove me crazy until I got up and went downstairs to turn it off myself.

It got louder, and louder, and it started to echo through my ears. I was never scared to investigate so what do you think I did? I pulled my covers off and slid myself out of my bed.( I'm glad I went through the trouble of turning my light on or else I don't know what else I would have done.)

My closet door was open a crack, it was pitch black inside, but the tapping sound filled my room. That's where it was coming from. I slowly reached out to grab the knob and I pulled the door open. At that second the tapping noise had stopped and I was confused. The closet was filled with clothing and books, the floor had puzzle magazines covering up the white rug , but in the corner there was a dark oozy substance soaking the pages. I had figured out it was fruit juice when on the top self a spilt glass layed on it's side. I set it upright and closed the door and turned around...

"**KkcCrrrRRReEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!" **It cried loudly in my face, the most horrible thing you could ever see looking back at you. All I saw before I screamed was red eyes and jagged rotting teeth and smell of dead skin. My eyes were going to fall out, I was on the floor, I had stepped backwards and tipped over a doll.

My mom was in my room within seconds to find her hysterical daughter screaming on the floor with her hands over her eyes. She shook me gently by the shoulders calling my name, "Alice..Alice, ALICE!" I snapped my eyes open to look into hers. She had a twisted expression on her face but she managed a small smile. I thought her face was going to shatter into a million peices, if I would have ever thought my mom looked middle-aged, it was at that moment.

"It was here, in my room, it came from my closet! Didn't you hear it? It made a screeching sound!" Panicked, I clung to my mom and sobbed into her stomach until she gently said, "Honey, you were just having a horrible nightmare, there's nothing here." I looked up at her, untrusting her words. "Didn't you hear it? Doesn't the room smell like something dead?" She shook her head. I was a demented child.

I slept that night in her room that night, in her cozy queen sized bed. I slept pretty well considering I just went through the nitemare of my life. Or was it really a nitemare? Lets call it my dramatic experience, that I happen to have forgotten for the time being.

That wasn't the end of my "unusual experiences" stage. I sat in class the next day, and a man outside the window was peering in, smiling at me. He waved in a friendly way and I waved back. The teacher eyed me strangely as well as my classmates.

"Alice, who are you waving to?" she said stopping her discussion. I looked away from the window and I thought it seemed obvious. "The man standing outside the window." Her classmates giggled, some making sure there wasn't actually a man in the window.

He continued to wave at me, with a lonely smile his eyes understanding. I almost lifted my hand to wave back, but I restrained myself so I wouldn't have to go through more giggles. He frowned, not in anger but in disappointment. I quickly looked from the chalkboard, to the window. The weird thing was, he wasn't there when I looked back.

Soon I started seeing random people, in closed stores and around abandoned building. By our town's air cadet museum I would see people dressed up in uniforms.. I always pointed them out, and everyone always denied them being there. At one point I thought they were denying it to drive me crazy. "There's no one inside there...""That's been abandoned for years! There's nothing worth anything there!" "The museum is a park, there's employees dressed up as cadets, it only has a caretaker and a manager."

I would just stop telling people I saw them. They were everywhere, like regular people. Some of them had a lot of cuts and scars, bruises and black eyes. They all seemed to stare at me, only me. Because only I could see them. I even saw ones that were bleeding. Those ones I did tell others about. It only made them think I was crazier and crazier each time. "You think it's funny to tell me your seeing invisible people that are bleeding to death?" That's when I realized I was seeing...

I was nervous to drive by cemeteries, there appearances where getting worse and worse. It's like they've upgraded me to seeing more extreme gore, more people that look as if they should be in a hospital bed, not wandering around an old cemetery. I couldn't look in mirrors, a reflected light would always block out part of my face, the funny thing was that I couldn't ever find where it was coming from.

My mom was getting worried. My auntie was telling her things. My aunt had lived down the street, and I would go there when my mom had longer working shifts. We went for a walk that autumn, I could remember me with my pink scarf, excited about all the leaves falling off the trees.

On the sidewalk, I saw a man dressed in a long brown trench coat, with a matching old hat. The kind you would see in one of those old 1930's movies. He lifted his hat for a greeting giving me a polite smile. A honey colored dog walked by his side and I had noticed it didn't have a leash.

The man walked past us, and the dog followed close to his side. "That man's dog didn't have a leash, aren't owners suppose to have leashes?" I asked her. She looked at me weird and glanced behind her back at the dog. "Sweetie, I only saw a dog, there was no man." I shook my head. "The dog was walking right by the man, and he smiled at me and lifted his hat." I explained to her, desperately hoping I didn't see another dead person. She didn't say a word after that, and neither did I. Now my aunt thought I was crazy.

Never did they ever bother me at home though, not until the end of winter. I was expecting it. I slept with my light on and my head under the covers. I even asked my mom for earplugs. She asked me why and I told her because the faucet downstairs drips and I couldn't sleep. She bought them for me and they did help me sleep better.

One night I slept without them. The nine year old I was, I even thought it was stupid. Apparently it wasn't. I could hear them talking. A man and a woman, and it wasn't my mother . I didn't give up the light so I could see perfectly fine. They weren't fighting, it was a normal conversation. They were too quiet to make out what they were saying. The woman would comment on something, and the tone in the man's voice would either accept or reject it. The next time I looked up it was morning.

My mom started asking me strange questions, like "Have you been talking to strangers?" or "Are you doing ok in school?" and "Have you been lying to me lately?" I just replied with "No, yes and no." She gave me anxious stares. I guess she noticed my change in attitude. I guess I was becoming a quiet ten year old, too calm for anyone to think my personality should be for the age nine to ten.

Then, at a certain point it became bad. Frightening. I always wondered if you took the 10 year old I was then and put me back in that nitemare I had when I was nine, maybe I would have dealt with that better. But visible rib cages and half faces? That's too much for a kid. I could watch scary movies and laugh. "That won't happen to you, but it sure can happen to me!"

I came home from school one day, and instead of finding my mother sitting at a table, I found an old woman with white hair and sunken in eyeballs. I eyed her wrinkles and her creased lips. I wouldn't want to see her teeth.

She talked to me in a hoarse, deep voice for a woman. "Your very lucky you know, most people can't see anything." I stood there looking at her as if my dog was talking. "But I warn you, you don't always have control." I opened my mouth, but I couldn't say anything. She moved her head towards the window and gave it a blank stare, then she turned towards me and also gave me a blank stare, as if she could see through me.

"This is how we're looked at." she told me. "This is how invisible we are." She put her eyes back in focus with mine. "This is how you look at us, eye contact is the key." It took me a little while to understand what she was talking about. "I hope you realize we're all dead."

"NO!" I scream at the old woman, "WHY?! Why won't you leave me alone?! I can't do anything!" She stared the way someone very old and wise would stare at the young, knowing more than what the young knew. I knew it too, but I deny it. "GO AWAY! Just all of you GO AWAY!" She then smiled a cruel smile. "That is what you have control over." and then she was gone.

That was the end, I thought that was where it would stop. But after I said those words my mom caught me, coming downstairs from the shower. She had that "this is the last stand" look on her face.

"WE'RE MOVING." she stated in a clear official voice. Maybe that's the end.

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Not the end. Theres my first chapter, I'll write when I have time and inspiration...I hope I get some reviews. Please tell me what you think and ignore any typos...I didn't really go over it...

Caila


	2. I am Lost, I am Confused

How much can you expect from a teenager? My mother staring down at me while I sat on the floor doing my report on the book my teacher assigned, she gave me evil eyes. "Alice! I told you last night to wash the kitchen windows, you know how much I need your help around here!"

I glared out of my icy blue eyes that where framed around my dark brown hair. That's right, she needs all the help she can get, she also needs to help others just as much. She never did anything except buy the groceries, she wasn't around to make a mess so I had excuses to be cleaning up the house. I never saw her around dinner, she always "claimed" to be having supper with her friends, or that she was trying to date again. The thing was, I never got to meet these "guys" she met.

The truth is, about three years ago she was happy. She was actually engaged, I thought she would never get involved with anyone again, but I was wrong. God damn that bullshitter, he screwed her up bad. Broke up with her for some 40 year old blonde chick...You know, the plastic type. She even wanted a baby. Actually, she wanted another kid a year after she had me, but of course my dad passed away, heart attack. One of those rare cases where the guy dies at 30.

She took it out on me, try being 13 and having your mom go on binges, coming home at 11 pissed out of her mind, then hinting to me that I was the reason "he" broke up with her. I just came home, did my homework, watched some lame soap opera and go to sleep. By now, it didn't matter. I would move out in two years and hopefully carry out a life unlike my moms.

"Alice, I'm going to be out late tonight, I have to finish up some extra work I'll be back–.." "Yeah, never, I know there's pizza in the fridge and I already did my homework, bye." She shut up and stood there, like a movie being paused. She sighed and grabbed her car keys with her stupid designer leather gloves that she got from "him." [She liked them to much to stuff them in her closet

I clicked on the TV, flipping through all the channels. I thought there was too many of them, half of which we didn't have. It was stupid–"Just show me the ones I have so I can watch something and kill my brains cells dammit!" I would always scream. I am just a bit weird.

I didn't have a lot of friends. Sure you have your mini group, the one that sticks together so they have someone to stand around with at break. I feel sorry for us. The kind of friends that never hung out after school. I always felt I was the "less important friend" in the group, no one ever continued on about anything I ever said, it just went quiet. It became uncomfortable so I stick to listening to conversations.

"Downtown yesterday, there was a woman who had been working in the national bank. Co-workers stated clearly that she was a very sweet talkative lady who had been working at the location for over ten years. Police have video evidence of the woman stealing thousands of dollars at one time, employees where shocked—..." I gazed at the glowing screen. Nothing good ever happened, I personally dislike the world.

It went on about burglars, shootings and car accidents. I was about to flip the TV off until all of a sudden my old apartment building played on the screen. I sat there in interest.

"A shocking story about a small neighbourhood on the south side of the city, a man killed his 18 year old son brutally this morning. Details are that a woman taking her early morning stroll spotted the stabbing through the window's of the man's house.

"The boy had his arms in front of his face, then I saw the man thrusting a knife into the boy's shoulder," she had told news reporters in shock. The lady's name is kept under confidential."

"The man then placed the body in a black garbage bag after attempting to clean up the mess. He put it into the back of his truck and drove down the street. The man used to own the apartment buildings and even after selling, he kept a copy of the key. He placed the body in a vacant room on the top floor."

I almost swallowed my tongue. I used to live in that building._ I_ used to live on the top floor. They didn't say what room number. I debated whether I would tell my mother, or if she would even believe me. After we moved out, they had a plumbing problem in the room and then decided not to use it anymore. The third owner was too cheap to fix anything, of course finding this out by our neighbour that lived across the hall, I swear that lady was crazy. She wouldn't stop phoning us and complaining about how empty the building was.

I hoped that I wouldn't worry about it. That was a place in the past, and whatever happened now wasn't going to effect my future...if it was one to look forward too.

That night, my mom didn't show up. Maybe she crashed in one of those drunkie rooms when they were too drunk to drive anywhere. I would get mad at her for driving drunk. I always gave her the "One of these days!" speech about killing someone as well as herself. She never listened, just tread up the stairs and fall asleep on the recliner chair. I never talked to her about her problems, because when I did she would just deny it, or change the subject. It got to the point where she ignored me and I stopped bringing it up.

Brushing my teeth, I then combed my wavy brown hair. Everyone said it was pretty, I disliked it, but I find all people who do have waves and curls always want their hair straight. I never felt like doing anything to it.

I flicked my lamp on, grabbing my book I picked up from the last page I had stopped. The book was interesting, but I was sensing it would be one of those unsatisfying endings where someone important dies. I always hated those endings.

After an hour, I placed the novel on my night stand and shut off the light. I layed there shifting my position until I was comfortable. I was getting into that stage where your half awake and parts of your brain was beginning to sleep, and you would randomly twitch, which is strange because it happens to me all the time.

I could have swore I heard someone coming up the stairs, they were moaning too. I was thinking it could have been my mom, but she has a more womanly voice, unlike the one I was hearing. I was too tired to care and decided my mom did come home after all and it was the TV.

The sun woke me up before my alarm did. It was the weekend. I didn't really like the weekends. I never had anything to do. After finishing homework I would go to the store, or just walk up and down the sidewalks.

I didn't notice until later that day that my book was missing. I was planning on finishing it, but randomly disappeared which was weird because my mom never went into my room. She left long before I woke up. I find that during the night I can sleep through anything, but when I try to in the morning someone turning my door knob will disturb me.

Sitting down I glanced over to the clock, "2:30..." I thought for a moment. "What did I do today?" I needed to find a hobby. I used to take piano lessons but I quit when my teacher tried to make me play "correctly" I never thought of myself as a very stubborn but I guess that' what my teacher thought.

I sighed trudging up the stairs. I felt like changing, I was already tired and I could have had a nap, if I was the kind of person who took naps. I opened my door, which was oddly closed and walked in. I dug through my closet for my sweats, pulling out shirts I haven't seen in about a year. Turning around, I glanced at my night stand, and lying there was my book.

I stood there and looked around. "Now that's weird." I thought, wanting to say it out loud, but the sound of my own voice would have scared me at that point. I spun around to my door, completely forgetting about changing. The door was closed.

That was so odd, "Just a draft.." taking a deep breath I slowly turned the door handle. I stepped down the stairs more quickly then needed. When I reached the bottom, I discovered the TV was on. The voices of the people talking calmed me, made me feel less alone.

I tried not to let things get to me, I would just try as hard as I could to think about something else. Sitting on the couch, I turned the channel to History Television. It was working for about five minutes until..

Click. The TV shut off. I rapidly grabbed the remote and flicked it back on. I sat there not breathing for a minute until it clicked off again. I took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling. I just snapped it back on, and it would go off, and then I would turn it on. It was like a game you would play with your siblings, except it wasn't as scary. It got to the point where every thirty seconds it would just shut off.

"That's it." I declared. Getting myself off the couch I headed for the door. As soon as I reached for the handle I heard the stupid thing turn on. I looked behind me, my eyes wide I ripped the door open then closing it, not caring wether it was locked.

Walking down the road, a gust of cold air blew down my shirt. I was too petrified to grab a coat and I just shuddered trying to deal with it. Step by step I was thinking more and more of how strange that was. I didn't feel alone, that's what made it scary.

By the time I reached the end of the road, I stood there in a puzzling way. "Where am I?" I asked. "What is this place...Why am I here..." I repeated the questions. I felt lost, hopeless, I even felt depressed and confused. Holding my hand up to my forehead I thought through things. At that moment a heard a car horn and I was looking up into my mom's face.

"Get in the car! You look like your freezing!" she commanded me. I didn't think twice, I hopped in the passenger seat and belted myself in. I knew where I was. I was in my neighbourhood, and I don't know what the hell had just happened.

"What where you doing? You looked confused." she questioned me, almost sounding mad. I shook my head. "I wasn't feeling good, I was about to turn back." She looked at me like she knew there was something I wasn't telling her. She was right, I wouldn't dare mention what happened, she'd call me crazy and lock me inside the house.

She actually stayed for supper that day, she even made it. I looked at her, expecting her to tell me she was going to die or something. It actually felt normal, with a normal conversation to go with it. I knew it would change the next day, or maybe mom was dating men.

I stayed up late, I actually watched the TV too. It didn't turn off either. Of course my mom was on the other couch beside me. We were silent since supper, and I wasn't expecting anything else from her...Actually I was wrong. "You should get to bed." she told me. I paused for a minute, "Why?" clearing her throat she answered, "Because it's getting late, and you won't feel good in the morning if you end up oversleeping."

We had a small argument, I tried telling her that I was old enough to decide when I went to bed, and then she told me I still had two more years until I got to decide. I ended up going to my room anyways after the programs got boring.

Getting under the covers, I didn't remember the incident until I saw my book. The yellow cover stood out and I yelled at myself in my head. "No! Don't think about it, just go to sleep!" I bravely shut off the lamp and wrapped the blanket over my head. I felt wide awake now, I was wishing I stayed on the couch.

It was silent, it felt a bit too silent, I don't know how that makes sense because it's silent anytime. I heard papers crunching in the closet. I remember as a little kid I would go investigate what was happening. For some reason I never did that anymore, I was too scared to think about finding out.

I heard papers scatter, and my book slid off the stand and plopped onto the floor. I kept my head under the blanket, my jaw clamped shut. I could have hyperventilated if I wasn't trying to stay still. After a few minutes of rustling, and after nothing had touched me so far, I decided to call out. "STOP IT!" There was a silence and then I guess I fell asleep in some sort of strange way after hearing my mom call, "Go to sleep.." I swore I heard moaning on the stairs again...


End file.
